


Bollocks

by bratfromstrat



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike bbc
Genre: F/M, Mutual Pining, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 17:32:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17533154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bratfromstrat/pseuds/bratfromstrat
Summary: Ilsa gets a little tipsy and Robin gets embarrassed.





	Bollocks

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I have been gone for a looooong time. Basically what happened is, my phone deleted all my documents and I lost a bunch of fics I had started / hadn't uploaded yet. It bugged the hell out of me and I really lost my motivation for a long time , but on a whim I ended up writing this. I'm very rusty and it's very late, so don't expect very high quality from this. Anyway, enjoy!

The true irony of Robin's answer to the question "you really fancy him, don't you?" lay not in the blatant dishonesty, but in the fact that she had to get Ilsa to repeat it since she had been too busy looking at Cormoran to answer the first time. She was so used to denying any kind of romantic interest in her colleague that the "course I don't" came out of her mouth almost seamlessly, but Ilsa caught the self-conscious, fluttering blink that accompanied it.

She raised an eyebrow and peered pointedly at Cormoran and Nick, who were standing by Nick's CD collection, merrily abusing each other's taste in music. The low evening lighting leant everyone in the party a flattering softness of feature, and her old friend Cormoran was smiling brightly. She knew perfectly well that Robin had been looking.

The truth was that Ilsa had long since decided (upon stern advice from Nick who claimed to understand Cormoran better than her because they were both blokes) that she wouldn't intervene when it came to Cormoran and Robin's infuriatingly undefinable relationship. But a little drink had been taken and she was feeling both pot-valiant and mischievous.

"Well you have been looking at him all evening - not to sound like a 15 year old, but you have," she pressed on stubbornly.

Robin laughed this off, gave a not-so-casual scoff and then, when Ilsa's sustained eye contact seemed to expect more form her, managed a vague "keeping an eye to make sure he doesn't drink too much. We've got an early interview tomorrow."

They didn't, of course, and Ilsa knew that perfectly well because Cormoran had been telling them that tomorrow would be his first day off in three weeks. In defense of Robin's skills at fabrication, he was saying this before she arrived.

The truth of the matter was that she had been watching him all evening for the simple pleasure of it. When she first caught herself doing it, she had some very strong words with herself, and finally came to the conclusion that it was actually fine, since she knew there were no romantic connotations at all. It was, she insisted silently, simply the pleasure any person would take from their overworked and tired friend fully relaxing for the first time in almost a month. And his brow clearing for the first time in almost a week. And seeing his proper smile, his /real/ smile, not the tired or strained smiles she saw on him so often when the job was hard and his leg was hurting.

She couldn't stop herself from observing how much Cormoran's leg was hurting him, it had become a totally uncontrolled instinct. She knew it was still hurting this evening, and she could imagine that he wished Nick and Ilsa's sofas weren't quite so soft because soft, low things were much harder for him to get up from. But he wasn't thinking about it like he usually did, she thought he was even forgetting about it in between actual movements.

She should have known all of this watchfulness would not have gone unnoticed by Ilsa. She was a smart woman and, Robin suspected, a woman who would particularly like to see her and Cormoran as a couple.

Maybe that's why she decided not to drop the matter, like any uninterested party would have done, instead saying "Well actually, I know you don't have an interview tomorrow morning. Robin, you know you can talk to me."

Robin twisted the stalk of her wine glass between her fingers and tried another nonchalant laugh "okay, so I've just been a bit worried about him lately - god I sound like his mother."

"I worry about him too, Robin, but you don't catch me staring at him all soppy for hours on end."

As Ilsa said it, she knew she had spoken too loudly. The slight tipsiness had had its effect and this slightly impatient reply escaped the low tone the two women had been maintaining over their conversation.

Mortified, Robin refused outright to look at either of the men now, hand gripping her wine glass convulsively . 

Had there been a pause in the men's conversation? Had she just imagined it? It was Nick she heard speak next - was he trying to cover the silence as tactfully as possible? She couldn't bear the thought. She hadn't been so embarrassed in a long time.

"Shit. I'm sorry, Robin," Ilsa whispered.

"It's fine. Really."

"I don't think he-"

"No, I'm sure he didn't hear. Really, drop it, let's talk about something else."

The rest of the evening passed without further incident. The men agreed on some terrible CD both Robin and Ilsa condemned as the intersection of their respective terrible music tastes, and everything went along very nicely until the two visitors took their leave.

Robin had not looked at Cormoran properly all of the rest of the night, and she was a little trepidatious about being alone with him now, but she was his ride after all, and it didn't seem totally fair to abandon him for her own poorly concealed staring.

They didn't talk until they were putting their seat belts on in the Landrover at which point Cormoran took a deep drag from his cigarette and said "So... I hear you've been staring at me all soppy? "

The tone of voice and soft mockery in his face when he said this removed any malice or accusation. Robin laughed and covered her eyes with one hand.

"Oh God," she groaned.

"You know, I never even noticed."

"Oh do shut up, Cormoran."

"No really, I'm flattered."

"I will crash this car with you in it."

Cormoran laughed. Then, after a pause he continued. "It's okay. Ilsa was always doing that to me. She thinks I stare at you all soppy too."

In the dark Landrover, Robin felt her face warm up, and glanced at him sideways.

 

"Bollocks though, isn't it?" Cormoran continued bracingly when the silence between them had lasted just a little too long, and felt just a little too hopeful for both of them.

"Yeah," Robin agreed, heart hammering, aware of a desperate regret that the conversation hadn't taken a different turn. "Yeah, bollocks."


End file.
